


To Be Human

by Saffyre_Boo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Torture, Drama & Romance, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26499631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saffyre_Boo/pseuds/Saffyre_Boo
Summary: Ever since rescuing Dean from Hell, Castiel has gradually succumbed to the effects of human emotion, so much so that an accident causes the angel to lose control of his impulses and start a domino effect that will change him and Dean's relationship.Unbeknownst to Cas, an old 'friend' is on his tail, with nothing but revenge on his mind for something Cas can't even remember. Will the boys save Cas in time, or will the angel meet an untimely demise before he gets a chance to tell Dean how he really feels?
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Destiel
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	1. Accident

A freezing wind gusted around Cas as he perched upon a random New York City skyscraper. Why he’d chosen this place to clear his head he didn’t know, but the terrible weather seemed fitting considering the situation. Castiel almost wished he could go back to the days when he was but a mere soldier with no emotions. Follow orders. Wait for more. Repeat. Such a simple existence. 

_Almost_ being the operative word because Cas knew that, given the choice, he would choose to save Dean from Hell again in an instant, and not just because it was an order. 

Another gust of bitter wind blew the ends of Castiel’s trench coat in all directions. Cas laid his head in his hands as he remembered why he was here in the first place, a very human gesture…

 _Human_. Sometimes Cas wondered if he should just start calling himself that. Aside from his grace or ‘mojo,’ as Dean called it, Cas was human in every other way, down to the body that was all his own. Cas still failed to understand how he ended up this way, but the one thing he knew was that it somehow all circled back to Dean. It always does.

It had been years since he had rescued Dean from Hell, yet he still could not explain in words what he felt for the man, and he couldn’t begin to articulate how it was Dean himself that made Cas able to feel _anything_ in the first place, but he knew this to be true: the moment he laid his hand on Dean Winchester's soul, something was sparked at the very core of his being, and since then whatever that spark had contained had spread through Cas like a drug spreads through one’s bloodstream. He had been consumed by humanity and all of the incomprehensible emotions that came with it, all because of one human… how was that possible?

Cas had long ago ruled out the possibility of it being fate or destiny, for he had met with an angel of fate himself and asked her if meeting Dean was somehow in the cards all along, but she said no and had no further answers to offer. So, the only fuzzy explanation Cas could come up with was that there had to be something wrong with him. Perhaps Cas had always been some kind of cosmic mistake or, to put it in more human-relatable terms, perhaps there was some sort of malfunction when Cas was created that caused a glitch in him, an incredibly miniscule glitch that could only be activated by a particular human soul that it had taken Cas millennia to find. That was the angel’s most plausible theory, but Cas had long since accepted that he would never really know for sure. 

Slowly but surely, Cas was growing accustomed to the complicated spectrum of human emotions. He only had one problem with it, and that problem was the reason that Cas had chosen this random location to sit and think for hours. That problem was Dean- well, the way Cas _felt_ about Dean, anyway. Castiel had only recently come to the conclusion that the powerful, exhilarating, and sometimes painful emotion that Dean elicited from him was _love_ … Why did Cas have to want more? Why couldn’t he be content with simply having Dean in his life at all? And, for the love of all that is holy, why did Cas have to lose control of his senses and kiss him? Who was he kidding, he knew why he had done it, after all this time of secret pining and reigning in his urges. He did it because of what he had overheard between the brothers earlier.

It had been an accident. A silly accident that Castiel could very well have prevented if he hadn’t been so side-tracked. After all, he had made a promise to both himself and the Winchesters long ago that he would respect their privacy: no dreamwalking, no going back in time to see something they don’t want him to know, and no “floating up in here all invisible and spying on us like some angelic peeping Tom,” as Dean had so eloquently stated, and Castiel had made good on that promise until last night:

Dean and Sam were busy with a werewolf hunt in Chicago, so Cas had offered to go take care of a vampire nest he believed to be in a small town nearby. Of course Dean didn’t like the idea: “You’re not going hunting by yourself, not on my watch. Just come gank this wolf with us and we can all go to the nest tomorrow.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, a trait he’d picked up over the years of spending time with the brothers. “Dean, I have had my full grace restored for a while now. It won’t be a problem.”

Dean opened his mouth to argue but thankfully Sam cut in. “Dude, he’s a freaking _angel_. He’ll be fine. Now let’s go.” He grabbed Dean by the shoulder and hauled him out of the room, hoisting the duffel bag containing the necessary hunting supplies on his other shoulder as he went.

“Don't do anything stupid, Cas! I mean it!” Dean yelled from the doorway.

A smile broke through Castiel’s current despair as he remembered the conversation. Of course it was in Dean’s nature to be a protector, but Cas couldn’t help the fluttering warmth from spreading through his vessel when Dean would worry about him like that. Castiel now knew that this sensation in his vessel could be attributed to the whole ‘love' dilemma.

_But it is not just a vessel anymore. It’s me. All me…_

Anyway, back to Castiel’s stupid mistake: there was an unexpected demon near the vampire nest last night, and since it had the element of surprise on it’s side, Cas only narrowly escaped an angel blade to the back. Luckily he turned around just in time. He quickly burned the abomination's eyes out and took flight, and it was then that he stopped paying attention. For no more than five seconds he hovered in the hotel room, unseen by the brothers, who were each pouring themselves a shot of whiskey- he had kept himself hidden without even realizing it. 

Sam was mid-sentence when Cas arrived, “-might feel the same way. In fact, I think he does.”

Dean slammed his shot glass on the table and gulped the burning liquid down. “Sam, like you said before, he’s a freaking angel. They don’t feel these kind of things like we do, so just drop it.”

Sam muttered under his breath, “He’s always been different than other angels.”

This was when Cas decided to show himself, already feeling guilty about accidentally eavesdropping, and upon his sudden appearance Dean jumped and almost dropped his glass. “Dammit, Cas!” 

Sam chuckled at Dean’s expense before turning to Cas. “So, how did it go?”

“Like I said, no problem,” Cas replied gruffly. He didn’t want to needlessly worry Dean by telling him about the demon slip, and at the moment he was too distracted to go into detail anyway. What were they talking about? What was Dean feeling? What was the context of the conversation? Cas needed to know these things so that he didn’t jump to the wrong conclusions, even if there was a tiny spark of what he recognized as hope blooming in his chest. Maybe Dean did return the feelings that Cas tried so hard to keep buried… or maybe they were talking about something else entirely and Cas had simply misheard something.

“Cas!”

Cas gave the tiniest of jumps. “What?”

Dean eyed him suspiciously. “What’s the matter with you?”

Cas stowed his inappropriate thoughts away for later and answered quickly, “My apologies. I believe I ‘zoned out,’ as you would say.” 

Dean rolled his eyes at Castiel’s use of air quotes and replied, “I said, let’s head back to the bunker. It’s only a two hour drive and I don’t want to sleep in this hotel.”

Cas nodded dutifully. “Of course.”

Sam chimed in after swallowing another shot, “I swear, Dean, the bunker has made you so spoiled. You do remember that we used to _live_ out of hotel rooms, right? Or the hundreds of times we slept in the car?”

“Well then I think we’ve paid our dues and deserve to sleep in our own beds, Sammy.” Dean punched him on the shoulder and ruffled his long hair before grabbing his bag. He pulled his keys out of his pocket and twirled them on his finger. “Let’s roll!” he said happily and walked out with that playful swagger that was uniquely Dean’s.

Sam sighed dramatically. “Fine, but I’m taking the back seat. I need some shut eye.”

Cas watched all of this with an amused expression and followed them wordlessly to the car. Within a few minutes Sam was snoring, leaving Cas and Dean in a content silence save for the soft sounds of The Beatles coming from the speakers and the road passing beneath them. When ‘Hey, Jude' came on Cas enjoyed the sound of Dean’s quiet humming, and his heart warmed up every time he saw Dean glance to the back seat to make sure he wasn’t disturbing his brother while he slept. This was one of those moments that Cas felt truly happy. The angel knew that if he was given the option to spend an eternity in this car with them, listening to classic rock and seeing Dean’s smile as he sang his lungs out and listening to their endless brotherly bickering, Cas would choose that life in an instant. He looked over at Dean’s profile and smiled, unnoticed by the hunter.

About an hour into the drive Dean pulled into a rest area to use the bathroom. Cas decided to get out to stretch his legs and get some fresh air- not that he _needed_ to, being an angel and all, but the longer he was on Earth the more he found himself taking pleasure in little human luxuries, especially ever since this vessel became his and his alone.

Cas sat down at a worn bench next to the bathrooms. The area around them had scattered trees sprinkling across the grassy field. He tilted his head up and looked at the vast array of stars in the clear, black sky and the sounds of crickets and locusts met his ears. Cas closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of tranquility that only God’s creation could bring him.

Cas heard soft footsteps and could feel Dean’s eyes watching him, and then his vessel's- no, _his own_ \- heart sped up as Dean sat slowly next to him, radiating heat into the angel’s side. Cas took a deep breath to try to calm his bodily reactions. The power of touch was an odd and addicting human phenomenon, one that Castiel had only discovered since meeting Dean (again, it always comes back to him). Something Cas had learned was that it never seemed to be enough- a shoulder pat, an accidental brushing of their arms, a hug… he was always left craving more, as if a part of him went missing the second that the contact ended. This didn’t happen with Sam or any other human that Cas had become close to. Just Dean, and Cas wondered if it had something to do with the fact that he had literally touched Dean’s soul, or did all humans experience this when physically close to someone they love? _Perhaps that is why lovers are called ‘soulmates,’_ Cas mused.

Dean’s voice interrupted his ponderings. “You actually look like an angel for once.”

Cas opened his eyes and looked at Dean curiously. “What do you mean?”

Dean chuckled. “It’s not an insult. I just meant that you were sitting perfectly straight and still, like they do.”

“But I _am_ an angel, Dean.”

Something like sadness flashed in Dean’s eyes. He looked down and seemed to choose his words very carefully. “I know, but sometimes I would swear that you’re turning more human every day. You know, like fidgeting and pacing and stuff.”

He looked back up at Cas with a somewhat shy expression which puzzled the angel for a moment, but then he remembered what Dean had said earlier in the hotel: _He’s a freaking angel. They don’t feel these kind of things like we do…_ did Dean really think that Cas could possibly feel nothing after all they had been through? Did he truly believe that Cas didn’t genuinely care about him and his brother? Is that why he looked so crestfallen a moment ago when Cas reminded him that he was, indeed, an angel? 

A few moments passed as Cas decided what to say, because he needed Dean to understand that he _was_ different than other angels. “I believe I have picked up some human quirks, but the more substantial change is in how different I _feel_.”

Dean appraised him for a second, and Cas noticed the way the moonlight affected the green in his eyes. Simply mesmerizing… 

“How you feel?” Dean wondered aloud.

“Yes. How I feel… emotions. Sadness, fear, peace, happiness, anger… Everything.” Cas couldn’t bring himself to say ‘love,’ although that’s what he was feeling in that moment. In all moments with Dean, actually. “When my grace was gone, I discovered the true range of human emotion… I _did_ feel things before then, but I suppose being human must have amplified those emotions.”

Dean stared into the distance, subconsciously biting his lip as he thought about this. Castiel tracked the movement with his eyes and found it quite distracting, and without realizing it he leaned his face just a bit closer to Dean’s. Keeping his eyes forward, Dean asked slowly, “What about now? I mean, now that you’ve got your mojo back did these emotions… lessen again?”

“Not at all,” Cas replied with no hesitation. “For example, right now I feel at peace, being surrounded by nature… and thankful, I suppose.”

Dean let out a sarcastic laugh. “Thankful for what? This shitty rest area?”

Cas remained completely serious when he replied, “Every day that I get to spend with you and Sam makes me incredibly thankful, Dean.”

Finally Dean turned to look at him with a bemused expression. “You know, Cas, I’ve never met anyone as good at being as uncomfortably honest as you.”

Cas tilted his head. “I make you uncomfortable? My apologies… I have been trying to work on my ‘social skills,’ but I suppose I still have much to learn.”

A boyish laugh escaped Dean’s lips- one of Castiel’s favorite sounds- before he said, “Well for starters, why don’t we stop with the air quotes? And you don’t have to be sorry for being honest, Cas. The truth may make people uncomfortable, but it’s always the best option.” A troubled look crossed Dean’s features for a fleeting second, perhaps because he, as well as everyone, was guilty of lying in the past. 

“I see,” was all Cas said. Then they both stared straight ahead for a couple more minutes, enjoying the humid night’s tranquil effects and each lost in their own thoughts. 

Eventually Dean broke the silence. “So, what are your plans after we get back? Planning on making any trips upstairs or anything?” His voice was casual but Cas could sense the underlying urgency in his tone, because the simple fact was that Dean felt more at ease when Cas and Sam were with him, in his line of sight so he knew they were safe. Always the protector.

“No, I don’t plan on returning to heaven any time soon. I doubt I am very well liked at the moment, and I consider myself lucky that they have let me keep my grace. It’s better not to push my limits.”

“Oh. Well, you’re welcome to stay at the bunker.” At this point Dean turned back to him and seemed to just notice how close they were. Cas heard his breath catch and would swear he was… No, it must have been these human eyes playing tricks on him. 

Dean gulped and continued, “We have, uh, extra rooms. I mean, I know- I know you don’t sleep, but-“

“Dean,” he interrupted, trying to hide his smile at how flustered Dean was getting. Was it possible that Dean experienced the same light-headedness when it came to physical contact? Because right now Castiel’s whole left side felt like it was on fire, a very pleasant fire. “Of course I’ll stay with you. As long as you wish.” 

Somehow their faces were now mere inches apart, and a thrilling electricity made its way through Castiel's body. He could feel Dean’s breath on his lips, could smell Dean’s shampoo, could see the flecks of brown in his green eyes. Cas was being suffocated by everything _Dean_ and he didn’t plan on pulling himself away. 

Dean gulped again and glanced briefly at Castiel’s lips before saying in a husky voice, “Be careful what you say. I might make you stay forever.” 

Castiel’s heart was now beating in his throat. It was like the world consisted of only him, Dean, and this tiny charged bubble around them. As if just realizing that he said those words out loud, Dean’s eyes widened and Cas knew he was about to get up and leave and pop this intoxicating bubble, so he timidly placed his hand on top of Dean’s ( _what was happening? Why couldn’t he control himself_?), and barely managed to whisper, “Then I’ll stay forever.” Their eyes locked together for one second before Cas slowly closed the small gap between them. 

It was barely a graze of their lips, a feather-light touch that made Castiel’s insides burn with the longing he’d been pushing down ever since he’d saved Dean’s soul. Dean’s lips were rough and soft at the same time, and Cas could smell the faint odor of whiskey on them… 

But then Dean pulled away and cleared his throat, releasing his hand from Cas's grip, and once again it felt like a part of the angel was missing. Without looking straight at Cas, Dean stood up and mumbled, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Come on, let’s get going.” 

Castiel's heart sank. Why would Dean think that he wouldn’t stay with him? Could he really not see how much Cas needed him, how much Cas _loved_ him? The empty space that Dean left throbbed painfully in his chest as he followed along to the car, where Sam was still fast asleep.

An hour later they arrived at the bunker. Dean didn’t say a word the entire drive, nor did he make a peep as they unloaded their luggage and headed inside. Sam must have picked up on the awkward atmosphere, because when Dean grunted “’Night,” and went straight for his room, Sam looked at Cas and asked, “What’s up with him?”

“I’m… uncertain.”

Sam’s eyebrows furrowed in concern as he looked at the hallway where Dean disappeared, but then he must have decided that it was better to leave his brother alone. He turned back to Cas. “So, what are you up to, now?”

“I believe I will be rooming here for the foreseeable future. I don’t think I would be very welcome in Heaven right now.”

Sam seemed taken aback by this but quickly recovered himself. “Oh, uh, great! Make yourself at home, man. I’m turning in for the night.”

Cas tried his best to smile and said politely, “Thank you, Sam. Good night.”

“’Night, Cas.”

Sometimes Cas wished he could sleep just to pass the monotonous hours, especially tonight. If only he could lay his head down and escape his thoughts and wake up feeling refreshed. Instead, he passed the time silently sitting in the bedroom he chose, hoping beyond hope that, come morning, everything will have blown over. Perhaps he and Dean could just pretend nothing happened and go back to normal, whatever ‘normal' was in this life.

Unfortunately that’s not how it panned out. The awkward tension was palpable as Sam and Dean drank their coffee and Cas sat nearby pretending to be looking for a case on the computer. Poor Sam tried his hardest to get a conversation flowing, but Dean’s avoidance of Castiel’s gaze and short answers to his brother eventually made him give up.

It was easy to see how uncomfortable Dean was and Cas felt terrible for being the cause of it, so he decided to step away, at least for a little bit. He shut the computer with purpose, stood up, and made up a generic excuse to get out of there. “I’m afraid I have to leave. An angel, one I consider a close comrade has called for my help. It’s nothing big. She is simply having troubles adjusting to life on Earth, as I’m sure all of my fellow rebels are.”

Dean glanced up at him but quickly returned his gaze to his phone, looking troubled. 

When Sam saw that his brother didn’t intend on saying anything he replied, “Ok. How long do you think you’ll be gone?”

“I’m not sure. As long as it takes for her to feel comfortable, I suppose,” Cas lied quickly.

Dean finally spoke without taking his eyes off of his screen. “Are you sure this isn’t some kind of trap or something? You said yourself that a lot of angels hate your guts right now-“

“Dean!” Sam chided his brother for his bluntness.

Cas cut in before Dean argued back. “I’m sure she can be trusted, Dean. I will return as soon as possible.” Dean frowned but said nothing else, and Cas took that as his ok to leave.

And that’s how he found himself in New York City on this blistering cold night. He had been sitting here all day and he still had no clarity of any kind. Yes, it was nothing short of cowardly to run away from a problem _he_ had caused, but he couldn’t stand the fact that Dean could barely look at him, and those words kept ringing through his head: _Don’t make promises you can’t keep…_

Castiel knew that he had wronged the Winchesters many times in the past… he should have known it would take a long time to rebuild that trust, but this was a promise that Castiel knew he would keep: As long as Dean Winchester allowed Cas to be in his life, that is exactly where he would stay. Unfortunately, he was now unsure if Dean wanted him around at all, and it was all his fault.

‘ _Cas, please help!_ ’ Dean’s panicked voice pierced through Castiel’s ears. 

A prayer.

Without a second thought the angel leaped off of the thousand-foot building, and less than a second later he was bolting down the stairs of the bunker, mentally cursing the warding that kept him from getting straight to Dean. 

‘ _Cas, help us!’_


	2. Panic

It wasn’t the first time that Castiel had witnessed these kind of night terrors, but the sight of Dean gripping his sheets so tightly that the whites of his knuckles were visible still caused sorrow to fill the angel's chest. He instinctively went to press two fingers to Dean’s forehead, but then- ‘ _Cas, please, come back!_ ’ He prayed again. ‘ _Help us_!’

Castiel’s hand froze in front of Dean’s troubled face. Maybe he could peek into Dean’s head just this once… because why would he be dreaming that Cas would leave him when he needed help?

No, he couldn’t spy on Dean’s dreams. Hadn’t he already done enough damage by his accidental eavesdropping earlier, and wouldn’t that action make things exponentially worse? With a newfound determination to redeem his virtue, Cas sighed and began moving his hand forward again, but now Dean said out loud, “Cas… Please…” This time his voice sounded so broken and defeated, so quietly desperate, that the little resolve Cas had mustered then completely dissipated because the curiosity was insatiable.

Knowing very well the potential consequences of his morally questionable decision, Cas slowly sat himself on the bed next to Dean’s sleeping form and then closed his eyes. A whir of color flashed before his eyes and then the image slowly focused, the colors making their way into blurry shapes of the unconscious. Cas saw Dean and Sam kneeling on a street with their hands up in surrender. Before them stood a shadowy human figure, the face switching from fuzzy versions of Meg to Ruby, then to Azazel, then to Lilith, then Dick Roman, Zacariah, Crowley, Metatron, Lucifer… a deadly mixture of all of their greatest enemies.

The space around the street was filled with vague images of buildings, and beyond those buildings was nothing but a suffocating, smoky blackness. Cas quickly stepped behind something resembling a dumpster so that he would not be seen.

Here’s the thing about dream walking: not only do you see what the dreamer sees, but you can also tune in to what the dreamer is feeling, and Castiel was hit with a feeling of dread and doom so fierce that it brought him to his knees. It was the feeling of knowing you’re about to die. Dean knew that he and Sam were about to be killed by this morphing monster and that there was no way to stop it. The demon reached for Sam’s neck with a blurry arm, but then everything slowed down and the scene in the street became nothing but background noise as Dean called out, “Cas! Help us!” 

At first Cas thought he had been spotted, but he then realized that Dean was looking in the opposite direction. Cas followed his gaze and saw a silhouette of himself in the foggy distance, and as this dream version of him got closer he knew immediately that something was _very_ wrong. This Castiel’s eyes were hard and distant, his mouth in a sharp line, and he walked agonizingly slowly despite the dire situation. Dream Cas stood before Dean, looking down on him as if he were a mere piece of dirt, his stare as cold as ice… A chill ran through the real Castiel’s spine when he realized that the expression was identical to the one that he’d worn when he was beating the life out of Dean under Naomi's command… when he was nothing but an animal trained to kill.

“Cas, help!” Dean begged as blood poured from his mouth, making him gag just like he did that night. Current Cas gagged along with him, as he was feeling every sensation that the hunter was going through. The desperate terror emanating from Dean made it hard for Cas to breathe. At the next words that Dream Cas spoke, Real Cas fell all the way to the ground, face first into gravelly concrete, from the pain they caused in his chest, in his _heart_ : “I learned my lesson while I was away, Dean. I serve Heaven, not man, and I certainly don’t serve _you_.” It wasn’t only Dean’s heartbreak that Cas felt, but also his own guilt and regret because he remembered saying those exact words to the real Dean years ago.

Tears were streaming down Dean’s bloody face, the immense hurt that he was enduring making it’s way through the angel's entire body, his entire being. Not only did Cas feel the stab of those words, but also the sick realization that Dean felt as if he _deserved_ such treatment, that he _deserved_ to be abandoned and left to die. “No!” Cas moaned and attempted to climb to his hands and knees, but it was as if gravity was working against him. “Dean! I’m coming!” he rasped and desperately tried to crawl his way across the concrete, but then Sam and the demon came back into focus and everything resumed at normal speed. Cas heard the sickening crack of Sam’s neck and curled into the fetal position from the overwhelming grief that it caused Dean. Cas tried yelling again, “No!” but nothing came out except a strangled breath…

Because Dean was dying, and Cas was feeling every agonizing second of his death along with him. Because Dean was dying, and Cas swore he saw a hint of a smile on the face of his dream counterpart, a tiny sliver of arrogant glee in those inhuman blue eyes as they watched Dean suffer. 

That’s when Cas zapped back to reality, and for a moment he didn’t even realize that he was trembling and that tears were running down his face, or that Dean had startled awake at the worst part of his nightmare and was now staring at Cas with groggy eyes as he processed what he’d woken up to. 

No, those details went unnoticed because all he could focus on was Dean’s despair. The angel’s body and ‘soul,’ for lack of a better word, was still drowning in Dean’s fear and grief. How Dean had lived with nightmares almost his entire life and still managed to get any decent sleep, Cas couldn’t begin to fathom.

Cas had said those hateful things to Dean so long ago and yet they were apparently engrained into the hunter's psyche, forever haunting him and Cas both- of course, any time that Cas had caused the Winchesters pain would plague the angel forever, but now he knew that Dean was suffering the same post-traumatic fear and it broke his heart. 

Horrible memories started plaguing Castiel’s vision: Dean’s broken and pleading voice when Naomi had nearly forced Cas to kill him. _Please, Cas_ , _I_ need _you_ ; killing Dean over and over in that wretched simulation, watching him beg for mercy but draining the life out of him anyway, time and again; the hurt of betrayal in Dean’s eyes when he found out that Cas had lied straight to his face about working with Crowley to access purgatory… The list of his past wrongs seemed endless, it was no wonder Dean didn’t trust him. Cas felt as if he was going to combust from the guilt and sadness coursing through him. 

Suddenly two hands were shaking his shoulders. “Cas! What’s wrong? What happened?” Dean’s concerned green eyes bore into Castiel’s teary ones, the nightmare obviously vanished from his mind as soon as he returned to consciousness and saw Cas in his current state.

“Dean, I-“ That’s all Cas managed to get out before his throat painfully closed up and an involuntary choking sound escaped his lips, more fresh tears draining from his eyes. Crying was a curious act indeed, one that Castiel did not like one bit.

Dean shook him harder. “Cas! Are you hurt?” His voice was rising with panic, so Cas vehemently shook his head to alleviate at least _that_ worry from Dean’s mind. “What happened, then? What’s wrong?”

After a strained gulp Cas stuttered out something like, “I’m sorry, Dean. So- so sorry, I wish- I-I-I-“ White spots started to obstruct his vision as he struggled to choke out any more words. It would appear that his body was not functioning properly, but Cas was aware that this is what humans call ‘hyperventilating.’ Despite the lack of oxygen to his brain and his fogging vision, Cas kept trying to apologize, as if any number of apologies could take away Dean’s pain and appease his own guilt. “Sor-sor-ry, D-Dean!” Cas barely registered Dean’s appalled expression before the hunter's strong arms were around him so firmly it was as if he was trying to hold Cas together. 

_No, this isn’t right._

Castiel didn’t deserve this sympathy. Leave it to Dean to be the one doing the comforting when _he’s_ the one who needed comfort right now, but perhaps Cas was selfish, because he slowly returned the embrace and absorbed the offered support.

Dean was whispering softly in his ear, “Breathe, Cas, breathe! Man, what the hell? You’re kind of freaking me out here. I didn’t know angels can have panic attacks.”

_I’m not like them, Dean! Why can’t you see that?_

Instead of saying that Cas just squeezed Dean harder and said again, “S-so sorry,” before burying his face in the side of Dean’s neck.

“For what?!” Dean exclaimed desperately. “For that kiss? It’s fine, Cas. _I’m_ sorry for being an asshole about it, ok? I’m sorry I made you want to leave.”

“No, Dean, no!” Cas yelled into his neck, frustrated because everything that Dean just said was entirely inaccurate. “F-for _everything_.” And that was the scope of his ability to explain any further right now. He finally noticed how badly his body was shaking. Another symptom of the panic attack, he presumed, and wondered when this awful feeling would finally end. _Would it end?!_

Dean seemed to understand his current inability to speak because he started moving his hands up and down Castiel’s back with soothing pressure as he repeated in his ear over and over, “Just breathe. Everything’s ok, Cas. Breathe with me. Everything’s ok.”

Once again, the power of physical touch proved it had abilities far beyond Castiel’s understanding, because the longer that Dean held him the easier it became for Cas to think a bit more clearly, the repetitive motion on his back somehow grounding him just enough to match Dean’s breathing and stop trembling. 

It calmed him down enough to be able to stand up and get away from the comfort he didn’t deserve. 

Cas wiped the tears from his face and looked at the wetness on his hands with a curious expression. Dean stayed sitting but watched him with worried eyes, and Cas supposed he owed at least a little bit of explanation for this rude awakening. His voice still strained, he said lowly, “You prayed to me.”

“What? I don’t…” Dean trailed off. “I was dreaming but… I can’t remember… wait, were you in my head?” 

Cas just nodded, expecting to hear yet another lecture about privacy, but to his surprise Dean just closed his eyes. “Dammit, what was I dreaming about?” he grumbled to himself, desperate to know which part of his mind Castiel just violated.

“Your nightmare is what woke you up, but I apologize that you had to wake to see me like this.”

Dean stood up with a sigh and put his hands on the angel’s shoulders. “Stop apologizing, Cas. Just… tell me what happened.”

Cas looked down, the empathy in Dean’s green stare too much for him to take. “Your nightmare-“ he began, but his throat closed up again as he remembered Dean’s agony.

To his surprise Dean let out a dark chuckle. “Of course something inside my fucked up head would spook a goddamn _angel_.”

“It wasn’t you, Dean. It was _me_.” Cas kept his eyes down but he could practically see Dean’s worried confusion. He felt Dean’s hands tighten on his shoulders.

“Cas, I don’t even remember what the hell I was dreaming about! So whatever it was just let it go.”

Cas shook his head. That was something he couldn’t do, not when Dean’s pain was so fresh in his mind, in his heart. He gently grabbed Dean’s hands and removed them from his shoulders. “You should be sleeping,” Cas said as he saw how bloodshot the hunter’s eyes were. Dean should have been resting peacefully, not trying to comfort Cas at four in the morning over something that was his own fault.

Dean waved his hand. “I can sleep later. Just… are you ok?”

Cas sighed and ran a hand through his hair, yet another human gesture. “Don’t worry about me, Dean.”

“Too late for that,” Dean scoffed. “Cas, please… what’s wrong?”

Again Cas shook his head. This guilt was too much and Deans concerned expression only made it worse. Why Dean still cared one bit for Cas, he’ll never understand. “Nothing, Dean. Just sleep now.” Cas raised his fingers.

Dean stepped back. “Cas, no.”

Cas closed his eyes as he felt yet more tears bubbling up. Why wouldn’t they stop?!

He actually flinched a little when Dean gently wiped a fallen tear. Cas opened his eyes to see Dean looking straight at him, his warm hand still on the angel’s cheek. Cas said in a quietly desperate tone, “After everything I’ve done to you, Dean, can you please just allow me to give you one night of peaceful sleep?”

Dean grinded his teeth together, Castiel’s stubbornness apparently wearing on his last nerve. The warm hand left his tear-strained cheek as Dean raked his hands through his matted hair with a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about! We’ve all fucked up and made mistakes, Cas! Whatever it is that’s bothering you now, it's in the past. It’s forgotten, alright? Apparently not by my subconscious, but I can’t _control_ that.” Dean started pacing around his small bedroom. He brought his hand up to his chin and began roughly stroking his stubble, something Cas knew he did when he was deeply unsettled. Cas could see his troubled features in the mirror above Dean’s dresser, and a part of him was tempted to just overpower Dean and force him to go back to sleep so that Cas could wallow in self-pity in peace.

He couldn’t really do that, obviously, so instead he said what he was thinking, social cues be damned. “Dean, only someone with as good of a soul as you would ask me to stay here forever after everything I’ve done… I _felt_ it, Dean. In your mind I felt your pain as if it was my own, and- and to hear you say that’s it’s forgotten and that I should let it go… I don’t know how to do that while your anguish is still coursing through me.”

The silence that followed this little speech was suffocating. Dean just looked at Cas through the mirror, slightly opened-mouthed, and Cas realized that once again his truthfulness had made Dean uncomfortable… Dean had said that honesty was always the best option, but perhaps it was different with certain situations such as this. Suddenly Dean turned around and walked over to stand squarely in front of him with such determination in his stance that Cas couldn’t bring himself to move. He steeled himself and tried to look Dean in the eyes with as much courage as he could scrap together, unsure of what was coming.

“Cas, I need you to listen to me. Really listen, ok? You _can_ let everything go because _I forgive you._ Do you hear me? I don’t care what my stupid brain conjures up when I sleep because that’s all bullshit. Fuck dream psychology and Freud and whatever else! Just… just know that _I forgive you_ , Cas. For everything.” 

Cas was rendered speechless. He simply looked at the man before him in awe. Why Cas was the lucky enough angel to have this mysterious glitch inside him, to meet Dean and experience all of this, he’ll never know. Cas just knew how incredibly grateful he was that Dean Winchester, the righteous man with the most amazing soul Cas had ever seen, considered Cas a friend and was selfless enough to forgive Castiel’s endless wrong-doings, his long list of mistakes that had hurt Dean so deeply. At this point even more tears were rolling down Castiel’s cheeks, but he hardly noticed anymore. 

After a pause Dean looked down shamefully and mumbled, “And I’m sorry for what I said earlier about not keeping your promises… you know that I trust you, right Cas? I trust you with Sammy's life, with _my_ life, and I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

Oddly, Cas was suddenly overtaken with an urge to laugh, because of course Dean would end up apologizing in a situation where he’d done absolutely nothing wrong. He didn’t laugh, though- Cas was at least savvy enough in the human social arena to know how inappropriate _that_ would be right now. Instead he mirrored Dean’s words and hoped the hunter would forgive himself, as well. “I forgive you, Dean. I understand, now, why you said it. Consider it forgotten.”

Dean smirked slightly. “Using my own words against me, huh? You know, you’re getting pretty good at this ‘human’ thing. It’s a little scary.”

Cas knew that this dry attempt at humor was Dean’s way of saying everything was ok, so he stepped away from the hunter to try and alleviate some of the intense air around them. Cas took slow steps around the room, getting lost in looking at Dean’s possessions- the numerous posters of cars on the wall, his gun and sword collection on the dresser… Cas paused and delicately picked up the tattered photo of a four-year-old Dean and his parents. A strange hollowness made it’s way through Castiel’s chest as he stared at Dean’s innocent face. This photo was taken shortly before Sam was born, Cas surmised, and those happy, blissfully ignorant green eyes had no clue what horrors his future held. Horrors that would begin only months after this candid snapshot was taken. 

Cas turned back to Dean with a heavy heart and cleared his throat before saying, “This ‘human thing,’ as you say… I must admit that it’s quite overwhelming, even after these past years of experiencing it. For instance, a mere photograph can stir up an entire range of emotions in less than two seconds… remarkable." Cas sighed before setting the picture back in it’s place. 

Dean walked over to him, grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the bed. He sat down and forcefully tugged the angel’s hand to make him sit down beside him. Cas obeyed wordlessly and stared at Dean’s hand in his, floored at how an act so simple could feel so intimately terrifying. His heart sped up as he looked at Dean with wide, curious eyes, and Dean was biting his lip in that way that Cas always found unreasonably fascinating. Dean’s gaze was focused just over Castiel’s shoulder, far away and lost in thoughts that Cas wished he had the privilege to know, but after tonight Cas would work ten times harder to make sure he never, _ever_ intruded on Dean’s privacy again. 

Finally Dean focused on him again, and Cas realized he was still staring at Dean’s mouth and he wanted to punch himself. This was another thing that Cas had learned about love- it made one do foolish things outside of their control, as if the body disconnects from the mind and follows it’s own unreasonable commands, just like what had happened the previous night that had started this entire mess! But this time was different, because Dean wasn’t pulling away. Clearly he had noticed where Castiel’s eyes had been. Clearly he noticed how Cas was now squeezing his hand harder because he was feeling so overwhelmed and uncertain, and Cas was growing tired of feeling those things tonight. And he had to notice Castiel’s breathing become shallow and his cheeks turn red… but still Dean didn’t pull away. In fact Cas was quite sure he was leaning in, and he had about a half a second of excited anticipation before a deafening bang made them both jump up. The ground shook beneath their feet as they heard a series of rumbles in the walls. 

Dean looked at Cas with panic-stricken eyes and yelled, “The warding is broken!” and no sooner had the words escaped his lips did the red alarm lights start flashing and loud ringing pierced their ears. “Sam!” Dean breathed, and without further ado he grabbed a blade, a gun loaded with silver bullets, and a flask of holy water mixed with borax from his dresser and was out the door. Cas followed on numb legs, adrenaline pumping as he followed Dean’s lead. 

Sam’s muffled voice could barely be heard over the blaring sirens. “Dean! Where are you?”

“Sammy!” Dean called. “We’re coming!”

Sam’s tall form emerged at the far end of the hallway. He spotted Dean and Cas and began running toward them, also armed with his own assortment of weapons. Suddenly Cas felt something tightly grip his legs and send him sprawling to the ground. He let out a surprised yell as he scrambled to his knees and whipped around to see who or what caused his fall. 

Sabrini. An old acquaintance from Castiel’s time on Earth during the Renaissance era, and the last person he expected to see towering over him. “Castiel, my old comrade! Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you?” Sabrini taunted from above Cas with a cold gaze. 

“Sabrini… what do you want?” Cas asked.

Sabrini’s eyes landed on Sam and Dean, both armed and ready and about to strike. With a wistful smile Sabrini snapped his fingers and the boys fell to the ground into a forced slumber. 

“Stop!” Cas yelled and tried to rise from the ground, but then realized that Sabrini was telekinetically restraining him with his other hand.

“Not to worry, Castiel. I won’t hurt your little pets,” Sabrini said as he looked at Sam’s and Dean’s still bodies with disdain. He brought his hard eyes back to Cas. “I’m only here for you, old friend.”

Cas struggled fruitlessly against the invisible force on top of him. Sabrini gripped Castiel’s hair in his bony fingers and brought his face to eye level, staring Cas down for a moment before punching him in his temple with a force that would have killed a human, but Cas just felt the extreme physical pain of it and then everything started to become cloudy. With a malicious smirk Sabrini hissed in his ear, “Time for us to do some catching up.” 

Cas felt the ground disappear beneath him and knew that they were no longer in the bunker hallway. He was being flown to an unknown location by a previously unknown enemy, and his only allies in the world were unconscious at the moment and would have no idea where to find him.


	3. Torture

During the two-second flight, Cas felt a pinch in his neck and then passed out shortly after, falling into a dreamless, sort-of unconscious state that was difficult to describe. All he saw was pitch blackness, but he was also aware and alert of his body being thrown to the ground like a rag doll and vague metallic noises all around him, and then being whipped up and chained against a hard, cold surface. Castiel was there, but also not. The darkness enveloped him like black, icy water, and everything happening to his physical body felt like it was leagues away, closer to the surface of the murky sea while Cas _himself_ was sinking to the bottom. When Cas tried to scream it got caught in his throat, like a painful air bubble was blocking any sound from escaping. Cas could have been in this strange limbo for minutes, hours, days… Time seemed much more fluid here, where ever ‘here' was, and it gave Cas time to get well and truly frightened at his current situation, as well as confused at why this was happening. 

Eventually a muffled voice reached his ears. “Come on, Castiel, time to rise and shine…” it was so faint that Cas wondered if he’d imagined it, but a second later it returned, a bit clearer: “Come on, now. I’ve waited long enough for this. Up and at ‘em, old friend!”

Suddenly a blue light flashed on and off in the darkness, and Cas felt like he was being forced through an extremely pressurized tube. The endless sphere of black and blue smoke was closing in and constricting him until he was sure he was literally going to pop. Then, _finally_ , a dark, dingy, underground room started to come into focus and the pressure around him began to release. Cas gasped in a precious breath and smelt mildew and the overall scent of rotting decay. 

He desperately tried to move his limbs but found that he was chained up against a vertically standing metal board, the silver restraints laced with warding that made it impossible for him to break free. Cas jerked his head from side to side with wild eyes as he struggled, and he saw Sabrini's tall, lanky vessel to his left, his hands fiddling with a sickeningly familiar metal contraption… the same thing used by Naomi to erase Castiel’s memories, the same thing Crowley had used to dig his way into Sam’s skull and get to Gadreel. Intense fear overtook Cas at the prospect of what was coming. 

Sabrini must have sensed Castiel’s rising terror. He turned around with an evil glint in his eyes. “Ah, you recognize this, do you? Splendid!” With a buoyant energy he lifted the contraption and set it on a shelf on the right, out of range of Castiel’s peripheral vision but so solidly and surely _there_ that Cas could feel himself start to shake, for there was no worse feeling of personal violation than when one discovers that their own memories have been erased or tampered with. Castiel shuddered to think of how much of his own history he failed to recall.

Without the slightest concern about appearing brave or to have the smallest bit of dignity, Cas begged, “Sabrini, don’t!” 

The machine whirred to life next to him, and perhaps, if Cas was human and ever consumed any food, he would be vomiting all of the contents of his stomach and _then_ some, just at that horrible sound.

“Don’t!” he yelled again. The chains started digging into the skin on his wrists and ankles with how hard he was trying to escape, red and purple circles of raw, bloody flesh.

With a condescending tisk of his tongue, Sabrini chided, “Now, now, Castiel, stop fussing. It is completely futile and, frankly, quite irritating and childish. Besides-“ Sabrini wrapped a cold hand around Castiel’s neck and squeezed, savoring the sounds of the gags and chokes that resulted. Icy, grayish green eyes were then right in front of Cas’s face, eyes that were void of all remorse, void of anything, really, much like Castiel’s own in Dean’s nightmare. They stared straight through Cas and chilled his bones. Sabrini continued, “I don’t plan on erasing any memories, but rather on restoring some rather significant ones. At least, significant in regards to _me_ , but we will get to that part later. For now, let’s just get it set up, shall we?” 

Sabrini started to whistle a happy tune. He grabbed a helmet-type metal loop and shoved it unceremoniously onto Castiel’s head. Then, with much more delicate movements, he grabbed one screw after another and carefully placed them into their designated holes. Cas felt the various, tiny points of pressure where the cold ends of the screws met his skin. Two on his forehead, one on each temple, four scattered haphazardly across the back of his head, all vibrating as they waited for the mechanical command to start digging through bone. Similar to Sabrini, who was basically vibrating and buzzing with anticipation as he worked and whistled away. 

Eventually he spoke again, as if he felt like he was being rude to a dinner guest by not engaging in friendly conversation. “The more I think about it, I’m actually quite glad that the demon I sent to kill you was unsuccessful. I hadn’t thought about torture before, but, you know, when an opportunity comes calling… I have been looking forward to this for nearly seventy years, after all, so I figured, why _not_ indulge in my revenge a little bit? And then…” A disturbed, demented, and unnatural sound that no one would ever associate with an angel escaped Sabrini’s mouth. “And _then_ I did a quick little scan of your noggin, you see, and what I found was very intriguing. Not only did I find that Naomi had erased your memory of what you did to me- which makes this all the more enjoyable, I assure you- but, I also discovered that my dear old Cas, my brother in arms whom I used to trust so entirely, has fallen completely off the rails! That the great Castiel, always the best and most obedient soldier, has fallen in _love_ , and with a _human_ , no less! The very human who jump-started the apocalypse. The very human that he had so bravely rescued from Hell. How… unpredictably pathetic.” Sabrini shook his head and scoffed.

He then hoisted up yet another metal object, this one fashioned in a similar way as a vest, with four giant screws that, when Sabrini latched the vest onto Castiel’s torso, aligned to his heart, collar bone, and one each ready to pierce into both sides of his ribs. This was new. Castiel had plenty of experience with drills and screws in his brain, but never had his tormentors penetrated anywhere on his body with these implements. For what purpose Sabrini did this, Castiel didn’t want to begin to fathom, but even the vague possibilities sent pure dread coursing through Cas.

Why was this happening? Why did Sabrini, an angel that Cas hadn’t spoken to in four hundred years- or so he’d thought- want to hurt him? What did Cas unknowingly do that drove Sabrini to this point of evil insanity? “Don’t do this, Sabrini. Please,” Cas said again, in a tone as defeated as he felt.

“It’s funny, isn’t it?” Sabrini asked rhetorically, ignoring Cas's pleas. "How things change. Certain events happen that change the essence of who one is, forever. For the last seventy years I went through such an event… similar to you, Castiel. Why, your experience with this hunter, this _Dean_ , has changed who you are immensely, hasn’t it? Fascinating, indeed, how things work out.”

The whirring and metallic clacks of the machine grew louder next to Castiel’s ear. His heart raced with fear. He only had time to let out a weak “No-!” before the unforgiving metal thrust through his skin as easy as if Cas were made of melting wax. Scarlet blood spewed in all directions, and Cas could feel the warm wetness dripping down his face, could taste the coppery liquid pooling in his mouth because he had bitten his tongue in his effort not to scream. Blood spattered from Castiel’s chest right into Sabrini’s left eye, dripping slowly down his cheek. Sabrini let out a dark chuckle as he amusedly wiped the blood with back of his hand, looked at it with delighted humor, and then wiped it on his grimy, gray t-shirt. He reached his stained hand to somewhere unseen and there was a click of a flipping switch, and Cas had to finally let out a gut-wrenching scream as the drill roughly grinded even deeper into his brain, the excruciating vibrations rattling all the way down his spine and back up again. 

_Click_. The four giant screws that were poking out all around his torso also dug deeper, grinding his collar bone and parts of his ribs into dust and stabbing straight through his heart. The sound of Castiel’s cries were drowned out by the increasingly loud groans and clanks and buzzing from the high-tech screw driver next to his head. His screams gradually turned into whimpers, and into shallow breaths after that. His head fell forward, his eyes fluttering shut. Calloused fingers squeezed Cas's clammy cheeks and forcefully lifted his head back upright. Cas struggled to focus on Sabrini’s face through the haze of pain and the blood droplets. Sabrini cooed in a singsong voice, “Castiel and a human sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.” He mimicked a puking sound before giggling insanely and saying, “This discovery may present me with some interesting options, you know. I have observed the strange powers of love, and the intense pain that comes from losing someone you love. Perhaps I can use this Dean to hurt you further… Kill him? Erase his memory of you? Torture him while I force you to watch? Or maybe I’ll simply kill you both, nice and slowly… Hm, who knows? I suppose we will see how I’m feeling after this.”

The image of Sabrini hurting Dean or Sam in any way caused a rage in Cas so profound that he managed to roar, “NO!!” and proceeded to struggle against the chains with a newfound determination, part of him even hoping that he would fight so hard that the chains would simply cut off his hands and feet so he could escape, get off this metal sheet and kill Sabrini and go make sure the Winchesters were safe, and Cas would tell Dean he loved him and kiss him until they couldn’t breathe anymore because so much time for them to be together has already been wasted. Classic regrets of lost chances at love when someone knows they might die. Cas fought even harder, pieces of bloody flesh now falling from his wrists and ankles where the chains hadn’t budged at all.

Sabrini squealed with glee at this reaction. Obviously his intent was to mess with Cas's head as well as physically torture him. “Oh, how exquisite!” he croaked and clapped his hands together. “After all those decades of being the one in your position, it is rather nice to be the one calling the shots, to be the one making the _cuts_.” At some point Sabrini had picked up an angel blade, and as he said that last word with reverence he cleanly sliced one of Castiel’s wrists. A shallow _cut_ that started leaking wisps of ethereal blue and white light. 

Tendrils of Castiel’s grace escaping him and swirling away, slightly illuminating the otherwise dingy space.

Although Cas had been through this particular scenario before, it made the grief of losing his grace no less great, for he was again losing an integral part of himself, and so shortly after getting it back. It made him feel naked and hollowed out and used and worthless. If only he could rip apart these damned chains! At the rate his grace was escaping, he still had at least ten minutes until it was gone completely…

Another resounding _click_ , and the torture device reached a screeching crescendo in Castiel’s ears, piercing his brain with it’s menacing squeaks and whirs and buzzes. A blood curdling scream ripped through Castiel’s chest when suddenly it felt like his insides were being sliced with a thousand razor blades. His body shook violently against the metal as the electric pain made it’s way through his whole body, but it wasn’t only physical pain he was feeling. It went deeper than that, and not in the emotional sense, but as if the very fiber of his being, his very _essence_ , was being slashed apart and squeezed and mutilated, and Castiel had no idea how Sabrini was doing it, or what it meant, or if he would survive it. Scream upon scream escaped his lips, mainly unheard over the mechanical sounds and Sabrini’s manic laughter. When the unbearable agony subsided the slightest bit, Cas lolled his head to the side, sweaty and panting and feeling like he was broken into a million pieces. With closed eyes Cas heaved, “Sabrini… why… are you doing… this?” 

To this Sabrini gave a frightening hoot of laughter and said with sarcastic fondness, “Oh, all in good time, _brother_. All in good time.” 

A twisted grin spread across Sabrini's face, and Cas noticed that even the vessel he had chosen had a natural, maniacal look in his hollowed, gray eyes, and a gaunt, narrow face with a graying beard and a sinister quirk to his thin mouth. “Now,” he continued in a businesslike manner, “Let me see how far along we are…” 

Cas didn’t even want to know what he meant by that. What had happened to Sabrini and why he despised Castiel’s existence, he hadn’t the slightest clue, but this was not the same angel that Cas had fought beside centuries ago. The Sabrini in front of him had been tainted with something dark. His once pure and bright aura was now slithering with black, wormy shadows that left evil in their wake. “What happened… to you?” he asked faintly, perhaps as a distraction from the gripping fear of the unknown effects of the Hell that he was being put through, and a distraction from the pain, of course.

“You will soon find out,” Sabrini growled. “Now enough questions. I need to see something.”

Cas's eyes widened from shock as the screw lodged in his heart started to jerk randomly up and down, side to side, until Cas was sure his entire chest was going to explode. Sabrini’s eyes remained focused on the machine, skittering from left to right as he read whatever the monitor was conveying. No more sound was coming from Cas, for the pain was too great for a mere scream to do it any justice. 

“Not bad at all,” Sabrini concluded. “About a quarter of the way there… your grace is being depleted at a slow enough rate so that you won’t die during this part, but don’t fret. After some consideration I decided that I fully intend to put you out of your misery after I’ve had my fun. Now…”

 _Click_. The drills in Castiel’s head picked up their pace and caused his head to vibrate uncontrollably, the room shaking in his vision as he let out strangled yelps.

“Now it’s time for you to get some clarity, Castiel. Time for you to fully appreciate the gravity of the situation you have found yourself in. You asked what happened to me and why I am doing this. Well, time to show you.”

It felt like some kind of searing hot substance was being injected into Castiel’s brain. It worked it’s way painstakingly through each lobe, seeping through the neuropathways like poison. Black spots started to obscure Castiel’s vision. The dank, moldy room in front of him transformed into something else entirely but, like before, he was still aware of his broken and bleeding body pressed up against the cold metal, trembling and dying, while the rest of Cas was now in a sandy, blood-stained trench, the sound of gunfire and the screams of the dying surrounding him. The Sabrini that Cas recognized stood by his side, the Sabrini that hadn’t been corrupted by evil, who followed orders and served only the Lord.

It was a memory. Cas was about to relive a forgotten piece of his past, because the last time he recalled being with Sabrini, guns and tanks had not yet been invented. Whatever he was about to see took place long after the Renaissance.


	4. Memories

_Death surrounded Castiel._

_Bodies with fresh blood pooling from gaping wounds; bodies that had been decaying in the heat for days; bodies with maggots and rotting flesh; bodies blackened beyond the point of recognition; bodies of men young and old, but mainly young, littering the blood-stained sand, and at least dozens more floating at the edge of the sea, being carried one by one into the ocean to sink to it’s darkest depths and be forgotten and rot where it will never be seen;_ pieces _of bodies strewn about in the sand; and yet more bodies dropping currently as bullets ripped them mercilessly to shreds and mustard gas made them gag and they decapitated and mangled each other in the heat of war._

_A massive explosion from somewhere behind Cas jarred his vessel (a devout Christian man in his twenties that Cas had possessed in Idaho. Blond and pale, with small shoulders and a disproportionately larger gut, and a premature balding spot on the on the top of his head), causing the vessel’s ears to ring and it’s feet to stumble around clumsily on the damp ground._

_Each of the handful of times that Castiel had come down to Earth, he realized more and more that these humans were his least favorite types of vessel to occupy. They were naturally clumsy and easily put off balance. They were very physically limiting and extremely fragile. Something as minute as stab of a blade, or loss of blood, or, these days, one tiny bullet wound, could kill the vessel, and it is not as though Castiel felt compassion for those lost lives. He did not_ mourn _for the fallen vessels or their families. It was more of a utilitarian matter- any human life lost was a loss of one of God’s creations. Creations that were put here for a greater purpose that no angel knew specifically, but had devout faith in, of course, so when a life is lost, not Castiel, nor any other angel, felt sad about it. The important word here is_ felt _, for angels did not feel. They simply viewed a human death as an unfortunate casualty of business, and Castiel supposed it would make more sense to make these human vessels stronger, if they were so important to his Father’s plan… but that was merely a fleeting thought, a casual observation that Castiel had made from his experience in these vessels, because never would he_ seriously _question his Father’s methods. It simply wasn’t in his ‘hardwiring,’ so to speak, so any shortcomings that he had with occupying these vessels were there in his mind and gone just as quickly, not affecting him in the slightest._

_A fragment of a human arm landed in front of Castiel with a thump. He tilted his head and watched the still-smoking limb with curiosity, saw how the blood sizzled and noticed how the acrid smell of burning flesh filled his vessel’s senses. He glanced at Sabrini, who was standing a few feet in front of him wiping intestines from his shoulders, in the same flippant manner in which a human would wipe off accumulated snow from their shoulders when they first walked inside from a blizzard. The angels remained completely still in their contemplative state, invisible to the doomed men around them._

_With a slight lift of his chin Sabrini finally spoke, “There is nothing to be done here, Castiel. Let’s go await further orders.”_

_“I don’t understand why we were sent here in the first place,” said Cas. “This Hitler man is nowhere near this blood bath. Our orders were-“_

_“Castiel, we do not question our Lord,” Sabrini said in a hard voice. “He is the creator of all, I do believe he is perfectly allowed to change his mind.”_

_Cas backtracked. “Of course. I am just suggesting that maybe the location was miscommunicated, because I clearly remember that our orders were to smite Hitler on this day, at this time, so perhaps-“_

_Something unfamiliar flashed in Sabrini’s human eyes, something Cas didn’t recognize, before he spat, “Enough, Castiel! I’ve never gotten a location wrong in the entirety of my existence. Our father must have changed his plans.”_

_Maybe it was the sharpness of Sabrini’s tone or how unnaturally impatient he was getting, but that was the moment that a new and confusing sensation came over Cas. What was it? Something was… off. Something was different, but what?_

_“Let’s go,” Sabrini said. “And wait for more orders.”_

_And just like that, at hearing the word ‘orders,’ Castiel’s mind went back to it’s factory settings and, without hesitation, he took flight alongside Sabrini and they zoomed into the sky. Just as with Castiel’s opinion on human vessels, any questions or strange inklings that Cas may have had were completely washed away as swiftly as they were seeded, because of that one simple word._

_Follow orders. Wait for more. Repeat._

_Xxxxx_

This must be what being possessed felt like. Cas could see Sabrini right in front of him on that bloody beach. He could feel his own mouth talking and could even smell the rotten decay of the hundreds of corpses, but he had absolutely no control over what he said or did, because this was a memory, or perhaps a series of, and Cas had no choice but to sit back in his own head and watch them play out. He'd already tried to yell at his past self, “It’s _suspicion_ you’re feeling, you ignorant fool! Sabrini is up to something!”

But it was pointless. All pointless. None of those words penetrated the blond, balding vessel’s brain. The Cas from decades ago still flew away with Sabrini, and the Cas that was trapped just underneath the surface could do nothing about it but watch, and listen, and fear what he was about to learn. 

The image of the battlefield faded away and was instantly replaced by a different, yet equally grotesque and disturbing, setting in which the next memory would play out.

_Xxxxx_

_Castiel and Sabrini surveyed the rows upon rows upon stacks of the deceased, splayed out in front of them and going on for miles, discarded in the dirt as if they meant nothing. They were all extremely emaciated, including the ten-year-old child that Cas was staring at with furrowed brows, as it had struck him how astounding it was the extent that humans could be so brainwashed as to lock up children and kill them slowly, justifying such actions in the name of patriotism and politics. The fear, pain, and sorrow could be seen even in the glazed, lifeless eyes of the fresher corpses, including the child’s._

_Simply mind-blowing, the sheer volume of lost lives._

_With a last steely glance at the poor creature Cas addressed Sabrini, “I have not been able to contact Demetrion for the last thirty-seven hours and sixteen minutes. Is he not stationed on Earth anymore?”_

_Only angels could have such casual business-talk in the midst of a scene so horrifying._

_“Oh, did I not tell you, Castiel? We are no longer receiving orders from Demetrion. We have a new messenger.”_

_“Who is it?”_

_Sabrini pursed his lips for a fraction of a second, an almost unnoticeable flash of something in his features that gave Cas that peculiar sensation again, before he answered, “I’m afraid I have been sworn to secrecy on that front, old friend. You see, the immense importance of this mission has made anonymity more desirable. Our dear Demetrion has been stationed somewhere else, yes, but I cannot disclose the identity of our new boss.”_

Unsettled _… perhaps that's what this sensation was. Cas found himself unsettled at this news. Ever since the conversation with Sabrini at the beach, that strange wisp of uncertainty had sneakily curled its tendrils around Castiel’s consciousness and settled there, always spiraling, always sure to alert Castiel of it’s presence. “Anonymity…? But both you and I have always known the names of our commanders. I don’t understand…” Cas trailed off._

_Sabrini raised his eyebrows as if to scorn Castiel’s audacity for asking such a thing, but he kept his tone quite professional when he responded, “It’s quite simple. As you know, Castiel, you are still one rank lower than me, and therefore you spend more time here on Earth when it’s needed, so in turn you are more often much closer to Hell than our upper-level brothers and sisters.” Sabrini gazed down at a woman who was skin and bones and who had clearly been beaten to death, and appraised her in a way that made Cas acutely uncomfortable. It made those wispy tentacles of uncertainty grow and hold on tighter. Sabrini’s expression was curious, but there was also something else in those ancient eyes as he stared at the woman, an odd sparkle that Cas was unable to define but it bothered him nevertheless._

_Sabrini looked back up at Cas in such a way that suggested he’d forgotten that he was in the middle of explaining something. He cleared his throat and continued, “In effect you, and all other lower-levels, are more vulnerable to being violently interrogated by Lucifer's demons, so it is best that all of you do not hold information that can compromise us. You understand, Castiel. Our Father thinks of all possibilities.”_

_The reasoning appeared sound enough, Cas supposed. It was just… different, but again, who was Cas to question his father’s strategies? Cas relented, “I see. Well, has our new commander given us any orders as of yet? The situation here seems to be getting… Excessive.” Cas gestured to the mass graveyard around them with a small movement of his chin. So many more lives lost at the influence of one man. Close to six million, if Cas wasn’t mistaken._

_Obviously, he wasn’t._

_“Not yet,” Sabrini dismissed. “I will go and check again. You wait down here. Anonymity, you understand.”_

_“Of course.”_

_Xxxxx_

_One month later_

_Cas had followed Sabrini because he needed to ask him a question regarding their most recent order._

_Sabrini had just informed Cas that he had been summoned to meet with Hale and Starlet, two fellow angels in Castiel’s rank, to discuss with them aspects related to a different mission. Since Hale and Starlet did not fall under this new rule of ‘anonymity,’ Cas assumed it would be harmless to quickly catch up with Sabrini for a moment to get the clarification he needed._

_How very wrong he was._

_Castiel happened to know that Hale and Starlet were stationed on a different planet at the moment, so he was quite puzzled when Sabrini landed in a random clearing in the middle of the Amazon rainforest. Perhaps his sisters had been hastily reassigned as well, just like Demetrion… yes, that had to be it._

_Yet Castiel still remained silent as he crept a few paces behind Sabrini, his curiosity piqued. Sabrini strolled with purpose across the clearing to a small rock bed in between two raffias. He bent down and arranged seven medium-sized, oddly-shaped stones into an ancient Enochian symbol. Cas cautiously stepped one foot forward as not to rustle the vegetation beneath him, and leaned his head a little closer to make out what symbol Sabrini had created: ‘Danger,’ the stones read._

_After observing that detail, Cas was now immensely certain that staying hidden had been the right decision._

_After Sabrini muttered an incantation that Cas didn’t recognize, the stones began to glow and shake and crackle, and even from this distance Cas could feel the Earth trembling beneath his feet. Then the stones rose approximately three feet off of the ground, and the symbol they had formed started spinning slowly and radiating a harsh orange light into the darkened forest. The spinning began to accelerate and soon reached such an astounding speed that, to the naked eye, the rotating rocks appeared simply as a glowing, orange ring. With a sharp snap of Sabrini’s fingers the rocks stopped their frantic whirling. Somewhere in that millisecond that it took for the stones to still, a huge, rusted iron door had appeared behind them, and now the enchanted stone symbol acted as a doorknob._

_Cas was not foolish enough to follow. He planned to wait until Sabrini left before he went in to inspect. Just the thought made Cas feel guilty, spying on his_ superior _, for heaven’s sake… But that mysterious, tentacled shadow stirred harder in his brain than ever before, urging Cas to keep on this questionable-bordering-on-sinful path, and so he waited._

_A couple of minutes after the door squeaked shut behind Sabrini, Cas could again feel the Earth vibrating under his shoes, but that wasn’t what concerned him. What bothered him was the intense, shrill scream that followed. Cas had been in enough battles to know the sound of a fellow angel in distress, and he also knew that this scream didn’t belong to Sabrini._

_The skin of his vessel began to crawl as his instincts told him how very wrong this entire situation was._

_Suddenly the stones began to tremble and illuminate once more. Cas quickly tucked himself safely behind one of the raffias as the same rusty door materialized in the night. With a powerful shove it squeaked open and Sabrini came strolling out just as casually as he had gone in, but now his movements were a bit more bouncy and cheerful._

_After Sabrini took flight, Cas hesitantly stepped in front of the rock bed and stared down at the innocent-looking stones. Pushing down every angelic drive that screamed at him that what he was doing was wrong, Cas squatted down and arranged the seven largest rocks into the ‘danger’ symbol. He closed his eyes and recalled the unknown words that Sabrini had chanted. “Ah, nihg bilko vas, en emht dus kee nah.”_

_The symbol rose and spun, and Cas snapped his fingers when it formed the same firey ring. The door appeared. Cas looked at it with a little bit of regret, as if a part of him hoped that the spell wouldn’t work and then he could convince himself that it had all been a rouse, a misunderstanding,_ something _, but the door was right in front of him, and with a deep breath Cas grabbed the handle, which was burning hot, and swung it open._

_Cobwebbed stone steps led down into pure blackness. Cas inhaled the smell of must and dirt as he descended. It got colder the farther he got. Eventually he was met with another door, this one wooden and worn, looking as if it belonged in a haunted house. Cas turned the rusty handle, and as soon as the door opened with an eerie creak he could hear the sound of shallow breathing and whimpering. By now the heart in his vessel was pounding relentlessly against it’s chest as it reacted to Castiel’s growing uneasiness. He stepped through the door onto a peeling linoleum floor and into a dingy, rotting room with a flickering pull light above him._

_Xxxxx_

Cas started yelling at his past-self again, this time telling him to get the hell out of there, _now_ , because he had just entered the very torture chamber that Cas found himself in currently. There was the same vertical, steel table with the warded chains, the same rickety shelf next to it containing numerous foreboding utensils, and the very drill that was lodging it’s screws into Cas's flesh at this very moment.

The unfortunate occupant of this room in the 1940s was Demetrion, the very commander that Sabrini had told Cas was reassigned more than a month ago, in the previous memory…

_Xxxxx_

_The sight before Cas did not compute. He couldn’t process what was so clearly right in front of him. There had to be a reasonable explanation. There simply_ had _to be, because if Cas had no choice but to let what he was seeing truly sink in, then his entire world view would be turned upside down._

_Even as he freed Demetrion from the warded shackles and assisted him in hobbling out of the building, leaving slivers of grace trailing in his wake as it leaked from the huge gash in his throat, still Castiel didn’t truly think about the meaning behind his current discovery. Instead he went into the same autopilot state that he did in the heat of battle._

_Assess the situation. Confirm the amount of immediate danger. Rescue your brother. Follow logical steps to get to a safe location. Assess the damage._

_Now Castiel was on that last step in the sequence. After teetering their way out of the underground dungeon, Cas immediately flew Demetrion and himself to a lake in Pennsylvania that Cas had always been fond of, particularly in the autumn months. Now, to assess the damage._

_Demetrion's eyes were darting around wildy as he heaved in pain. “Castiel. You…. You have…. To… stop them…” he whispered brokenly._

_“What?” Cas rasped._

_“The orders… false… can’t let them… start it early…” He began choking on his vessel's blood. Cas noticed with dismay that the amount of grace coming from his wound was dramatically lessening, tiny puffs of blue now barely pulsating through the cut. Judging from the amount of blood on Demetrion's clothes and the gaping holes and slashes in his vessel, once that grace ran out completely, Demetrion would cease to be._

_The beaten angel’s vessel started shaking and he fell to his knees. Cas kneeled down and firmly grasped his shoulders so that he didn’t fall completely onto his back. “Demetrion! What?! What are they trying to start early? Who’s they?” He asked desperately._

_“Apocalypse.” His voice was growing more faint and his head started lolling to one side. “Go… smite… the man… before… too late… find Joshua… can help.”_

_One more lone swirl of grace seeped from his neck, and not more than five seconds later Demetrion went completely limp in Castiel’s arms with a final sigh. That was when the past ten minutes' events finally caught up with Cas. Perhaps, if he was human, this would the moment that he’d begin shaking and crying in horrified confusion and grief. Instead, Cas stayed in that awkward position on his knees, held tightly on to Demetrion's mangled body, and stared, unblinking, into nothingness for a very long time as he absorbed the shocking realization that he had been working for a traitor._

_Xxxxx_

_As it was Demetrion’s dying declaration, Cas immediately flew to the Garden to seek Joshua's guidance. Joshua informed him that Sabrini and a faction of other angels had been scheming about prematurely starting the apocalypse for decades. Their motive was a bit unclear, but Joshua had come to the conclusion that it was simply boredom, wanting a change in their monotonous, order-following existence. Apparently, if Hitler lived passed a certain date, it would break the first of sixty-six required seals to start the_ _apocalypse, but this was not God’s intent, at least, not anymore. For whatever mysterious reason, God had decided that he needed humanity to survive at least until 2008, when the new first seal was set to be broken._

_Demetrion and Joshua had somehow figured out what this faction was up to, but before Demetrion could go tell everyone the truth, Sabrini had captured him. Since Joshua was merely a Guardian- a lower rank than Cas, only one above a cherub- he did not have the privilege of visiting or communicating with Heaven solely as he wished, so Sabrini didn’t seem to view Joshua as a very big threat._

_Unfortunately for Sabrini, he never viewed Castiel as a threat, either, and that miscalculation ended up being his ultimate undoing._

_After his conversation with Joshua Cas flew straight to Heaven to warn everyone, and within hours Hitler was dead by ‘suicide,' and Sabrini and his group of followers were all hastily captured and tried. It was a momentous occasion in Heavenly history when they were all sentenced to seventy years in Hell by God himself- well, Metraton was naturally the transmitter, but normally during a trial only the highest commanding angels were the judges, not God, so that alone suggests the severity of the crime- followed by eternity in what was known as the Room of the Damned, or the prison in Heaven, in laymen's terms._

Xxxxx

Cas had just witnessed the historic proceedings, and as he watched Metatron thank the court, he suddenly heard a familiar woman’s voice come from all around him. “Cas? Can you hear me?”

With the accent there was no denying who it was. “Rowena! I hear you. Where are you?”

“Oh, me and the boys are here in the bunker, trying to save your ass. Once again, I had to come and save the day. Now, we haven’t much time, dear, so kindly tell me where the hell you are so we can get this over with, yes? A magnificent witch such as myself has more important things to do after this.” 


	5. Rescue

Once again Cas felt like he was being squeezed to death as the image of Heaven’s Court faded into bright, flashing lights. The pressure around him increased to an unbearable weight, and then he slowly came back to himself in the present, back to Sabrini’s hateful, twisted features right in front of him, and the agony had returned in full force as well. He felt incredibly weak, barely able to keep his eyes open as the pain kept eating him away. The screeching machine finally fell silent next to him but the haunting sound echoed in his ears, ringing so loudly that he could barely tell that Rowena was still there, her voice faintly reaching his consciousness.

_“We are about to be on our way. Now how did that symbol look again?”_

Cas had to concentrate insanely hard to send her a mental image of the Enochian 'danger' symbol. He was finding it increasingly difficult to think coherently, but with all of his effort he summoned up images of the symbol, the clearing in the forest, the stones between the trees, the snapping of his fingers when the symbol was spinning fast enough…

Then Cas screamed as Sabrini viciously slashed diagonally down his entire torso with the angel blade, starting at the screw in his heart and ending at his right hip, leaving a dark trail of ominous blood oozing from the gaping slash, along with more tufts of grace.

“You ruined _everything,_ Castiel!” Sabrini spat, his gray eyes blazing like a flashing thunderstorm. “You don’t realize how powerful we could have been! You were my brother. We could have ruled _together_!”

Another searing slice into Cas's side, another desperate scream from his chest.

“You got me sent to Hell, Castiel. Hell! _You_ know what it’s like, having saved your precious _Dean_. It’s like- well, it’s like what _you’re_ being put through right now! Ah, I do love irony in death. Quite poetic, wouldn’t you say?”

Yet another sharp slice, this time horizontally across Cas’s chest, the fresh blood mixing with the darker, coagulated clots that were seeping from the hole in his heart.

_Cas, the incantation! We have the rocks arranged. What’s the spell?_

Rowena's voice sounded so faint, like she was standing a mile away and her voice was being carried to him by a light wind. Cas tried to think back to the memory of following Sabrini here, to recall the exact words for the spell but it felt like trying to swim against a tide. He was getting weaker and he couldn’t think straight. For a moment he couldn’t even remember what he was supposed to be remembering.

Some part of him registered the fact that Sabrini was now detaching the screws from his body, still streaming invective but Cas couldn’t begin to tell you what was said. More and more grace swirled out of his body, and he felt closer to death at every escaped sliver.

Cas was going to die. He was _dying_.

Rowena's voice came in a bit louder. _Cas! Stay with me! The spell, lad! The spell!_

The spell… what were those words?! With a colossal effort, Cas focused on that memory and, as if picking through hundreds of puzzle pieces to find the four corners, he painstakingly recalled the incantation to conjure the door, word by word.

_Ah… nihg… bilko…….vas….., en emht… dus…. kee nah…_

Cas's body then crumpled onto the ground and landed in a pool of his own blood. He didn’t have energy to move or even to make a sound, so he stayed in that unnatural and cramped heap while everything started going dark, and honestly it wasn’t awful. The pain started to ebb away until it was nothing but a background detail, and Cas looked forward to blacking out completely at this point, whether it be unconsciousness or death, he didn’t care anymore. In every way he was broken, and beyond ready to be done with _all_ of this. The experience was almost dream-like.

“It won’t be long now,” Sabrini’s voice from somewhere above him was drenched in bloodlust, drowning in the twisted pleasure of revenge. “Soon you will cease to exist, and then I will track down this Dean and torture him for the rest of his natural life, and there won’t be a damned thing you can do about it! Your precious _love_ will suffer at the hands of a crazed, blood-thirsty angel, and I’ll make sure to tell him that it’s all your fault, Castiel. Every piece of cut flesh, every drop of blood spilled, every single broken bone- and mark my words, there will be _many_ broken bones _-_ all your fault! For _betraying_ _me_!” He kicked Cas in his broken and grinded ribs, but Cas hardly felt it. He was being pulled into darkness. He was vaguely aware of his own shallow, panting breaths against the blood-soaked floor as his consciousness started to recede into the endless black.

There was a crashing sound as the creaky door flew off its hinges and shards of wood flew everywhere.

“Cas!”

 _Dean!_ At the sound of his voice Cas found the strength to lift his head a fraction of an inch. Dean, Sam, and Rowena came bursting through the doorway like a stampede of the most peculiar search-and-rescue team you’ve ever seen.

Sabrini chuckled softly. “Well, well, what do we have here?” He shoved Cas's body aside with his foot as he stalked toward them. “A witch, huh? My, my Castiel, the company you keep these days! And _Dean…”_ Sabrini looked at Dean with delight. “In the flesh! What is so special about _you,_ I wonder… I’m so glad you came so that I didn’t have to come collect you myself.” Sabrini raised the blade and began charging at the invading trio.

“Now, Sam!” Rowena commanded through gritted teeth as she focused on her unseen forces, her eyes glowing yellow.

“Ka bah insen, duch ginjt et was, im pichan con-“

Sabrini’s knees started to shake, and he became enraged. “You abominable whore! How dare you!” He threw himself at Rowena with flailing arms, slashing the air randomly with the angel blade, but Rowena, eyes now shut in concentration, raised a hand and stopped him in his tracks.

Sam continued, “mato exodine abhun, da nah bihro…”

During this exchange Dean had run over and threw himself to his knees next to Cas with a panicked cry. “Cas!” he said brokenly as he delicately hoisted Cas up by the shoulders. “Cas, open your eyes!”

Cas's eyes fluttered open; he didn’t even remember when they closed. Dean was looking down at him with tears creeping down his cheeks, and Cas instinctively wanted to reach up and wipe them away, but he couldn’t move. So he just stared at Dean with all of the love that he never got a chance to express out loud, and now he never would, because with each passing second more grace leaked from his numerous wounds, and soon he would be dead.

“Cas, please. You can’t leave me!” Dean sobbed in a hushed tone. “Stay with me. I _need_ you to stay with me! Rowena’s going to help you. Just hold on! Cas! Open your eyes!”

Again Cas's eyes popped open, and he didn’t know when they had shut. Now Cas hadn’t the faintest recollection of why he was so easily giving in to death just seconds before that door crashed open. How could he be so content with leaving Dean? How could he let the pain get him to that point, when Dean was worth fighting any amount of agony for? But, Cas realized sadly, it didn’t matter at this point, regardless. The chances of Rowena saving him in time were _extremely_ slim… but he would try his damdest to stay breathing, for Dean…

Sabrini’s furious, inhuman voice bellowed, “NO! I WILL _NOT_ BE DESTROYED BY AN UNNATURAL PIECE OF FILTH AS YOU, YOU VIAL WITCH! OR _YOU,_ YOU GLORIFIED APE!”

Cas could hear the scuffle of fighting, but everything was becoming slurred and discombobulated around him and he couldn’t keep track of anything. “Shit!” Dean yelled, and then he was gone, out of Castiel’s view and jumping into the fight. Cas couldn’t judge how long this went on, as time seemed to move more strangely when one was on the verge of death. He heard Sam continue his chant in broken, winded streams as he dodged Sabrini’s relentless attacks. “Das keenu mann…. Abs altok exo!”

There was a blinding light, and even as Sabrini’s eyes were being burned from their sockets, he managed one final, evil act. In one swift motion he shoved the angel blade clean through Sam’s gut, and the bloody point protruded from Sam’s tailbone with a metallic _whoosh_. With a satisfied smirk on his dying lips, Sabrini collapsed into a smoking heap on the ground, his sockets hollowed and blackened. Rowena let out a strangled breath and fell to the floor from the force of the magic she had just used, and Sam looked down at his bleeding gut with wide, shocked eyes before stumbling to the ground, as well.

“Sam, _no!_ ”

The raw, uncensored grief in Dean’s voice must have been what did it, because suddenly, _miraculously_ , Cas got a second wind and shakily pulled himself up to his hands and knees. With painful, strangled breaths the entire way, he crawled over the small- yet seemingly endless- linoleum floor to where Sam had collapsed. Cas could still feel some of his grace left in him, and he just hoped it was enough…

At least, if Cas died after this, he would die knowing that Dean didn’t have to live through the pain of losing his brother. 

Cas gripped the haft with a trembling hand and pulled the blade out, causing Sam to let out mangled, wet heaves and start to choke on his own blood. Cas threw the stained metal aside and placed his hand on Sam’s bloody stomach, willing any possible scrap of grace inside him to come forward through his fingertips.

_More, just a bit more, dammit!_

Cas's eye’s glowed bright blue. He clenched his teeth in his effort to use every last drop of grace he could muster. And the pain, God, the _pain_ from the insurmountable energy this took _…_ his insides were shattered, he was getting cold from all of the blood loss, and his head felt like it just got put through a meat grinder, but he pushed through all of it with unexplainable will power.

 _Come on, come_ on!

Finally Sam jerked to a sitting position with an incredible gasp, his hands going instinctively to where the blade had been plunged into his gut and where there was no longer any wound. He looked at Cas with bewildered eyes. Cas smiled weakly in satisfaction, and turned his head to meet Dean’s eyes.

 _At least,_ Cas thought deliriously, _there are worse things than seeing those beautiful green eyes before I die_ … and apparently that was when Cas had reached his limit in terms of absolute, unbearable agony, because he closed his eyes, fell to his face with a _thud,_ and succumbed to the inviting darkness.

Xxxxx

Cas was floating, he was sure of it.

He had no body, no _anything,_ yet he was somehow consciously aware of himself floating above his broken corpse, and though he had no eyes as far as he could tell, he could still see Dean’s panic stricken face as he lifted the upper half of Cas's lifeless body onto his lap and said over and over, “No, no, no, _no-no-no-“_ Sam put his arm around his brother, looking at Cas's tortured body with a mix of sorrow and disgust.

“Don’t you dare leave, you son of a bitch!” Dean croaked, then he turned to Rowena. “Rowena! The crystal! He’s out of grace, he only has seconds!”

The rather frazzled-looking witch, who was barely coming back to her senses after the draining task of killing Sabrini, sat up and crawled clumsily over to Dean and Cas. “Alright, Winchester! Calm your testosterone!” she said hoarsely before she reached into an inconspicuous pocket on her long, emerald, velvet evening dress and pulled out a rainbow crystal the size of a baseball. It had a wide, jagged base and then narrowed to a dull point. Rowena placed it in the middle of Castiel’s chest with the dull head facing up, and the vibrant colors started to illuminate, brighter and brighter until the dazzling prisms of refracted light bounced and danced off of the slimey walls. Once again she closed her eyes in concentration, and began mumbling a stream of indiscernible words under her breath.

Dean just kept sobbing, anguish laced in every choking gasp that escaped his lips. Although Cas could no longer feel any physical pain, the sight of Dean so vulnerable and broken still caused a deeply profound ache in him, no matter what plane of existence he was on, no matter what body or vessel he had or didn’t have. Cas wished he could reach over and assure Dean that he was right here with him, floating as some sort of non-being right in front of him. But did it really matter? How long would Cas hover here until he was completely and utterly _gone_?

“Rowena!” Dean snapped. “Why isn’t it working?”

There was now blood seeping from Rowena’s nose in her trying battle to keep Cas's heart beating. The sparkling crystal started to vibrate and emit a tiny whining sound. She took two deep breaths and murmured in a distant voice, “It was close, boys. _Very_ close. The amount of damage in here… I’m amazed he made it for a fraction of a second after his grace had entirely depleted…” A single drop of blood drizzled from her ear as she screwed up her face in concentration, turning almost as scarlet as her wavy locks. With a clenched jaw she screamed the final verse of her spell, and the whining of the rainbow crystal quickly intensified into a piercing screech that seemed to shake the entire room and even the earth surrounding it.

Everything around Cas started to spin. Or maybe he himself, whatever he _was_ at the moment, began to spin, and the colors from the crystal had gotten so bright and were flashing so rapidly that Cas got lost in a nauseating display of what came off as rainbow strobe lights. He could barely make out the vague shapes of Sam, Dean, and Rowena when they flashed repeatedly in front of his spinning view. His body appeared to rotate underneath him, faster and faster, and soon all Cas could see around him were dizzying neon colors.

Rowena yelled over the howling crystal. “Sam, get the morphine ready!”

 _Morphine?_ Cas wasn’t even occupying his body, why on earth would he need morph-

“AAAAAAHHHHHH!” Cas was dragged downward with a sudden yank and forced into his body with a suctioned _popping_ sound. The all too familiar physical pain returned with a vengeance and hit Cas like a meteor strike, and without opening his eyes he was writhing and screaming in Dean’s arms. “AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!”

Dean restrained him, the veins in his arms bulging from the tremendous effort. “Hurry up, Sam!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Sam fumbled with the multiple syringes in his hands.

“AAAAAHHHH! MAKE IT STOP! AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!” Cas wailed. If he thought that the pain was bad _before_ , that was nothing compared to the spasms of agony that were jolting through his entire being _now._ He almost wish he would have died rather than go through this. “AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!”

Both Sam and Rowena shoved needles into each of Castiel’s wrists and injected the morphine, and Dean added his own dose to Cas's bicep for good measure, all while Cas continued his mind-numbing screams. After a few moments the wild jerks of Cas's body slowly decreased to faint twitches and his screams slowly lessened in volume. Cas's eyes became heavier as the drug pulsed through him, and after determining that he probably _wasn’t_ going to die for the time being, he gratefully fell into a pain-free, narcotic-induced slumber.


	6. Recovery

Most humans have been in that in-between stage of sleep and consciousness. You think you’re asleep but then bits of the reality around you start to pierce your awareness, while simultaneously you  _ also _ think you’re awake, but then slowly you realize that whatever else you’re seeing isn’t possible, so you must be sleeping and it has to be a dream. So, what are you? Asleep, or awake?

This is what Cas was experiencing right now. All around him he saw random images of Sabrini, the Winchesters, Heaven, Hell, Earth, and whatever else was swirling in the angel’s subconscious, yet he could also  hear  Dean and Sam talking in hushed tones from somewhere unseen, about things that didn’t correlate to the images he was seeing at all. He could also hear beeping, like a heart monitor. It was then that Cas realized he must be half-dreaming, half-awake, and what an absolutely jarring feeling it was.

Sam’s voice reached him from reality. “… been out for almost twelve hours already. Killing Sabrini and saving Cas must have really taken it out of her. I can’t believe she was even able to get us back here.”

Dean replied. “Let’s just be glad she did. I can’t believe I’m actually  _ grateful  _ to her. Cas would be a goner if it weren’t for her magic.”

“Don’t be too excited. I’m sure she’ll find a way to throw her good deeds back in our faces.”

There was a pause before Dean said, “Dude, I can’t believe we have an angel and a witch in our hospital wing. It sounds like the start of a terrible joke.”

A fainter, female voice joined the conversation. “Actually my boy, that’s not accurate.”

“Rowena!” Sam exclaimed. “How are you feeling?”

“Just peachy, Sam,” Rowena said sharply, but she didn’t have her usual menace due to her exhaustion.

“What do you mean I wasn’t accurate?” Dean interrupted, and although Cas couldn’t see him, he had no problem picturing Sam’s stern expression at Dean’s lack of bedside manners.

Rowena said breezily, “Well, I heard you say that there was a witch and an angel in your hospital wing, but I’m afraid that’s inaccurate. You have a witch and a  _ human  _ in your hospital wing.”

“Well, yeah _ ,  _ but I’m sure Cas can get his grace back again  _ somehow, _ ” Dean said. “I’m not saying he’s gonna go slitting throats and robbing his feathery friends again, but-“

“I’m afraid it’s different this time, Dean.”

Both Dean and Sam asked in unison, “What do you mean?”

“Well, whatever that  _ Sabrini _ character did to him, he made it so that there isn’t a single angelic atom left in our dear Castiel… Sabrini completely  _ annihilated _ any divine part of Cas's being so entirely that now… well, now it’s as if he were never an angel at all.”

A shocked silence followed.

Dread started to fill Cas's dreaming senses, so fierce that he could feel himself being pulled into consciousness. Rowena can’t be saying what he  _ thinks  _ she’s saying. It can’t be. Cas was an  _ angel.  _ An angel of the Lord! He always managed to get his grace back before, he would do it again. 

As if Rowena could read his desperate thoughts she continued, “Trying to shove grace back down his gullet would be the equivalent of shoving a thousand angels into a kitty cat's vessel. It just… can’t be done.”

_ No! No, this can’t be happening. What did that bastard do to me? _

Cas's heart began to race. The dreams in front of him started crashing down into nothingness, and….

_ No!  _ The pain was coming back! He was an angel,  _ dammit!  _ He should have been able to heal himself in an instant and banish this physical agony forever! 

_ I’m an angel. I’m an angel. I’m an angel. _

“He’s waking up!” Dean exclaimed.

“I wouldn’t let that happen if I were you, boys. He’ll be in extreme pain for the next two weeks, at least, so it would be best to keep him completely sedated.”

Cas started grumbling in a groggy voice. “No… no…” 

“Cas, hold on. We got you,” Dean assured, in such a tender voice that was so out of character for the hunter that it almost made Cas believe he’d been dreaming this whole time, that maybe Rowena really  _ hadn’t  _ said those horrible things…

But the pain was still there, and increasing at a phenomenal rate, so Cas knew… he wasn’t  _ Cas  _ anymore, and he never would be again. 

He started attempting to move his stiff limbs, but he felt like he’d had been run over repeatedly by a compact truck. “Hurts… no… can’t  _ be _ …” he whined pitifully.

He felt the gentle pressure of Dean’s hand on his forehead. “Shhh. Hold on, Cas.”

“Be sure he doesn’t rip his I.V. out, dear. Ah,  _ here _ it is.”

Sam said, “I think we’re going to need a lot more morphine before this is over.”

“Not a problem for a witch, Samuel. Consider it done. I will get enough supply for two months, but he should stay fully sedated for only about two weeks, I would say, and then you can slow it down.”

“Two months! But he looks…  _ fine.  _ You healed every slash and hole he had!” Dean said in despair.

“I only healed the shallow wounds, Dean. I basically stitched him together, but everything deep inside still needs time to heal. And based on what I saw while I was healing him… it’s going to hurt like Hell.”

“Jesus Christ,” Dean muttered.

“Oh, and one more thing, boys…”

“What?” Sam asked.

“You’re going to have to learn how to insert a catheter…”

Thankfully the morphine kicked in then so that Cas didn’t have to deal with how awful  _ that  _ sentence made him feel. He only had one clear thought before sleep enveloped him again, and that was that he  _ sincerely _ hoped that Sam would take care of that nasty little detail,  _ not _ Dean _. _

Xxxxx

The next two weeks could have been minutes, days, weeks, or months to Cas. It was all a blur of weird dreams that he couldn’t quite remember, random pains in his bones, and sometimes reaching just enough conscious awareness to remember his situation and start to freak out. It never lasted long, though, since someone was always there to give him more morphine the second he began to stir. 

When they began to slowly wean Cas off the morphine, sometimes he would be lucid enough to overhear tidbits of conversations.

“Dean, just come on this hunt with me. You need to get out of here before you go nuts, and Rowena is perfectly capable of taking care of him for a few days.”

Dean’s exhausted voice answered, “I told you already. I’m not going anywhere, and that’s that. You go hunt if you need to, but I’m  _ not _ leaving this bunker until Cas is up and walking.”

Xxxxx

It could have been seconds or hours or days later. Who knows, but the next thing Cas remembered hearing was this:

“ _ Hey Jude. Don’t make it bad. Take a sad soooong and make it bette-e-er…” _

If Cas had the ability to smile at that moment, his face would have lit up at the sound of Dean’s hushed voice, but then the horrible reason he was even laying here started to come back to him. He began clumsily moving his head from side to side as he tried to open his eyes, but he couldn’t. It was like he was swimming frantically to top of the ocean, but right as his fingertips were about to break the surface he got pulled back down again. Reality was  _ right there,  _ but Cas couldn’t reach it. He couldn’t emerge from the ocean of his drugged stupor, but he was so close. 

There was a small pause in the song. Dean must have noticed Cas begin to stir, as well as the slight increase in Cas's heart rate, thanks to his heart monitor. A soft sensation met the top of Cas's head, and he realized it was Dean’s fingers softly raking through his hair. The light, comforting pulls caused Cas to still, and he immediately felt more relaxed. He knew he was being pulled back under the sea, back to dreams that made no sense.

Dean picked up his little solo, a little quieter this time. “ _ Remember, to let her into your heart. And you can sta-art, to make, things, better.” _

Xxxxx

“How did it go?” Dean asked.

“Fine,” Sam replied. “You know, just your standard case of creepy ghost kids. How’s Cas?”

“Pretty much the same,” Dean said tightly.

A heavy pause.

“Dean, when Cas gets better, you’re going to… tell him, right?”

“I don’t think that’s important right now, Sam.”

“Well, I disagree,” Sam deadpanned.

Dean scoffed. “Dude, Cas has to wake up to a world where he’s going to be human,  _ forever.  _ I don’t think that it’s the best time to throw some heart-felt confession at him.”

“Why not? You said he kissed you, so he obviously feels the same way.”

“It’s more complicated than that, Sam!”

“How so?”

“It’s… it’s  _ Cas,  _ for Christ’s sake! I can’t just- I can’t- Look, it’s not like when I would date chicks or have random hook-ups with dudes, alright? Its… it’s  _ Cas,  _ dammit! It’s weird!”

Another moment of silence before Sam gave a defeated sigh. “It’s not weird unless you  _ make  _ it weird, Dean. But I get it. You’re scared.”

Surprisingly, Dean didn’t argue back at this, which, in effect, completely proved Sam’s point.

Xxxxx

Over the next… however long it was, the vague and disenfranchised dreams started to become more vivid, and more dark: Visions of Sabrini’s sadistic smile and that underground 9’x9' torture chamber, the endless blood spatters, a blade shoved through Sam’s gut; the sounds of the screaming drill, of Sabrini’s manic laughter, of Dean begging Cas not to leave him; the feel of those screws plunging into his body, of his insides being shredded apart, of welcoming death as an end to the pain; the smell and taste of his own coppery blood. Every nightmare was so vivid that Cas had completely forgotten that none of this was real, and he truly believed that he was back on that vertical, metal table at Sabrini’s nonexistent mercy.

So when Cas finally, fully awoke for the first time, he was a confused, terrified mess, thinking he was still chained up and not remembering anything that had happened. The second he was able to flutter his eyes halfway open, he began kicking and moaning incoherently.

Of course Dean was the first one there.

“Cas! Calm down. Everything’s fine!”

But Cas didn’t comprehend. He  _ saw  _ Dean, but he wasn’t registering what it meant. He didn’t believe Dean was real. He continued to fight.

Dean put two firm hands on Cas's shoulders and brought his face right in front of Cas's eyes. “Cas, it’s me. It’s Dean.”

Cas squinted at him in confusion, then turned his stiff neck to look around, but everything was blurry. There was light coming from what had to be a lamp on a table by where he was laying, but that’s all he could discern of his fuzzy surroundings. “Where… am I?” Cas croaked. His mouth was as dry as the Sahara.

Dean's shoulders slumped in relief now that Cas had calmed down. He sighed and gave an incredulous chuckle, and if Cas was more alert he would have noticed the tears in the hunter’s eyes. “ _ Man,  _ it’s good to hear your voice. You scared the living shit out of me! You’re in the bunker, Cas. You’re safe.”

Cas tried to take a deep breath but found out it was incredibly painful, like his lungs were crystallized and started to shatter when they inflated. In fact, the overall pain was still pretty significant, but it was nothing compared to what he’d already been through. At least, it didn’t make Cas want to die, but the consistent, dull throbbing in his whole body was still very present. In a moment of ignorance Cas tried to heal himself and, when nothing happened, reality came crashing down on him, hard, so that this time no amount of morphine could make him forget.

_ I’m human.  _

_ Forever. _

_ I’ll never be an angel again. _

_ Fuck! _

His heart rate started to increase dramatically as his most recent memories flooded through him. 

Dean’s forehead creased with worry. “I know you’re probably still hurting pretty bad, but we’ve been lowering your doses…”

Cas bent his arm up (and flinched from the tug at the needle in his vein) and grabbed one of Dean’s hands from his shoulders, which required an unreasonable amount of effort and caused an unreasonable amount of painful tingles to travel up his arm. He squeezed Dean’s hand with as much strength as he could muster, but it was hardly a feeble twitch of his fingers, because he was weak. Because he was…

“Human,” Cas mumbled with a scratchy throat, now hating the word itself.

Dean couldn’t understand what he said. “What? Wait, hold on a second. I’ll get you some water.”

Dean’s hand left Cas's weak grip and it almost sent him into a panic. In his still befuddled mind, he thought that if Dean wasn’t with him then he wasn’t safe. Safe from what, Cas didn’t know. He just knew that he felt terrified. He closed his eyes until he heard Dean’s footsteps return. 

Cas opened his eyes again, but it was difficult. They were already feeling so heavy. He glared at the glass of water in Dean’s hand with disdain. He shouldn’t need water, and he shouldn’t be fighting to keep his eyes open, yet he realized he really  _ was  _ thirsty after a moment. He gratefully took a sip when Dean brought the red twisty straw up to his chapped lips. After a strained swallow Cas said hoarsely, “Thank you.”

Dean set the glass on the table by the lamp, and again Cas had the irrational fear of Dean leaving him alone. He hurriedly reached for Dean’s hand again. “Dean, don’t…”

Dean laughed without humor as he snaked his fingers through Cas's. “You’re friggin' insane if you think I’m going anywhere.”

Cas noticed how exhausted Dean appeared. The bags under his eyes almost looked like bruises. He looked pale, and thinner than Cas remembered. He wondered if Dean had left this room at all since they rescued him.

Cas took another deep, crackling breath before saying what he dreaded. “I’m… mortal…”

Dean pursed his lips, his eyes tightened, and Cas's fear was undoubtedly confirmed. “Yes, Cas… and Rowena said it’s gonna stick this time. I’m sorry… if only we’d gotten there sooner-“

“Stop, Dean. This had nothing to do with you.” The more Cas talked, the more difficult it became, and that throbbing was slowly working it’s way up to a full-blown, steady stream of pain. And he was  _ thirsty.  _ “Water,” he whispered. 

With his free hand Dean dutifully grabbed the cup and held the straw to Cas's mouth again, but Cas barely had the energy to pull a drop. He tried harder and got a tiny drink, not nearly enough to saturate his parched throat. He began to grow frustrated. He was nothing but a fragile, flawed, and weak, human body! His head was killing him, every bone felt like it had been shattered and then superglued back together, and he had a needle in his arm and tubes coming from his nose and various other places on his body. Once again the beeping on the monitor began to accelerate. Cas was a broken shell, and at that moment the grief of what he had lost consumed him whole.

“No… no… I can’t be…” The beeping became so frantic that it almost sounded like a pure ringing. The pain was beginning to become unbearable again. “It hurts,” he said, but he wasn’t just talking about his splitting headache or his bruised bones. His  _ heart  _ hurt like he’d experienced a loss of a loved one, which, in a way, he had. 

Dean closed his eyes as if to compose himself. “Hold on,” he said in a heavy voice. He slipped out of view for a moment and returned with a syringe. Cas eyed it wearily, hating the fact that he needed drugs to be comfortable, but he didn’t argue as Dean skillfully injected it into his I.V.

As the solace of sleep threatened to overtake him once again, Cas used the little energy he had left to blindly reach for Dean’s hand again, and missed completely. “Don’t leave,” Cas said, his eyes already slipping shut.

There was the sound of wood scraping the concrete- Dean pulling up a chair- before Dean said, “I told you, I’m not going anywhere. Just sleep now.”

Cas was already halfway there, and when Dean began carding his fingers through his hair it was only a matter of seconds before Cas fell completely into his slumber, but in those few seconds, he felt the light brush of Dean’s trembling lips on his forehead. Trembling like he was crying, and then his breathy voice whispered into Cas's ear, “I’m sorry.”

Xxxxx

The next time Cas awoke he wasn’t nearly as disoriented. Almost immediately he recalled where he was, and why, and while it was no less distressing, Cas managed to stay relatively calm as he returned to the waking world.

As he opened his eyes to the dimly lit chamber he saw that it was Sam sitting by the bed this time, his face immersed in a book. Cas squinted to make out the title-  _ Physical Rehabilitation: A Comprehensive Medical Guide for Aspiring Physical Therapists. _

Yet another reminder of what Cas had lost, and of how far he still had to go before being at all functional.

“Sam.”

Sam’s face emerged from behind the pages with a bright smile. He lowered the leather volume to his lap. “Hey, Cas! Damn _ ,  _ I would hug you if I could, man! How are you feeling?”

A ghost of a smile crossed Cas's lips. He knew that, although it had almost killed him in the process, saving Sam had been the right decision, because the Earth simply wouldn’t be the same without Sam’s bright smiles and open compassion. Cas replied, “I’m okay, considering... I’m glad you’re well, Sam.”

Sam swallowed audibly and nodded with a tight smile. “Cas… I know I can never repay you for what you did for me. I mean, you almost died because of it, and  _ now _ you’re… anyway, I just want to say, thank you.”

Cas raised a clumsy arm and patted Sam’s shoulder. “You’re welcome, Sam.” His throat felt like sandpaper. He began to cough and it caused a thousand stabbing pains to burst through his lungs and up his esophagus.

Sam’s eyes widened a little. He sprung up from his chair and the book went sprawling to the ground. “Shit, sorry, Cas! I’ll get you some water.”

A moment later the same twisty straw met his lips. After forcing the liquid down his dry gullet Cas asked, “Where’s Dean?”

A knowing smirk crossed Sam’s features. “How did I know you were going to ask that?” he asked rhetorically. “I  _ finally _ convinced him to get out of this bunker and go for a supply run. He should be getting back any time now.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes while Sam returned to his book. Cas noticed that the bed behind Sam was littered with piles of Dean’s clothes, and the hunter’s phone charger and a couple of books were strewn across his bedside table. Cas must have missed these details the last time he was awake. Apparently Dean had taken it upon himself to reside here with Cas in the hospital wing. 

Warmth spread through Cas's chest, emanating a powerful feeling (having to do with  _ love,  _ Cas was pretty sure) that overshadowed the extreme anxiety and grief he had been dealing with, for now at least. Cas knew that Dean, being as protectively nurturing as he was, would be by his side during the long, painstaking journey ahead, and that fact made the task a bit less daunting.

Sam pulled him out of his thoughts when he offered him another drink. Cas found that it was getting a little bit easier to get it down each time. It didn’t require as monumental an effort, so he figured that was progress, however small.

“Cas, can I ask you something?”

Cas looked at Sam expectantly. 

“I mean, I’m pretty sure I know the answer, but I guess I just want to make sure. Well, technically, it’s none of my business, but I just worry about Dean, and-“

Cas interrupted Sam’s rambling. “Sam, what is it?”

Sam cleared his throat. “Sorry. Uh, well… you  _ love  _ Dean… right?”

It would have been pointless to pretend he didn’t know what Sam meant. Cas knew now that Dean felt the same way, and besides, the heart monitor sped up and pretty much answered  _ for _ him. Still, Cas stared levelly at Sam and answered with complete honesty, because he didn’t want to waste any more opportunities to say it out loud. “Yes, Sam. I love Dean more than anything.”

Sam nodded wisely and didn’t say any more on the subject. He returned his attention to his book with a small, satisfied smile, and Cas dozed off yet again.

Xxxxx

The pain is what woke Cas a couple of hours later. He opened his eyes with a grimace. It felt like a ton of stones were laying on top of him. An involuntary moan escaped his lips when he tried to take a deep breath, and quickly learned that shallow breaths were definitely the way to go right now. The tell-tale beeping escalated, and he heard the rustle of the bed next to him. Dean’s concerned face entered his view.

“Cas, I know it hurts, but I need you to breathe through it, alright? You’re completely off the morphine now, but I picked up some pain pills for you today.”

“Morphine's better,” Cas said groggily. 

Dean chuckled. “I know, man, I know.” He grabbed a pill bottle from his duffle bag along with the familiar cup adorned with a red straw. “But according to Sam, who’s been geeking out on this shit and completely enjoying himself, it’s time to get you off that shit and start getting you to sit up, introduce your body to food, and all that crap.”

Cas swallowed the little white pill and resented that it didn’t work as instantaneously as the intravenous options. His head was beginning to ache. “Where is Sam?” 

“On a hunt with Jodi in South Dakota. They're thinking shape-shifters or ghouls.”

Over the next hour Dean had managed to help Cas into a somewhat sitting position and got him to eat several spoonfuls of applesauce. Thankfully,  _ finally,  _ the pain pill started to take the edge off. It wasn’t nearly as effective as the morphine, but at least it was something.

When Cas was noticeably having a hard time keeping his eyes open, Dean turned off his phone (he had been introducing Cas to his obsession with Scooby Doo), and carefully wrapped his hands around Cas's shoulders to slide him down into a laying position. 

The heart monitor sped up, and not because of the pain this time.

Cas's face flushed as he felt Dean’s breath on his neck and the warmth of his hands radiating through his shirt. As if out of instinct, Cas raised his arms and lightly wrapped them around Dean’s shoulder blades in a weak grasp. Dean stilled above him, and Cas heard the hunter’s breath catch in his throat.

Too late, Cas realized what a foolish mistake he had made. After what had happened with that kiss and overhearing Sam say how scared Dean was of being with Cas in  _ that  _ way, it was downright stupid to embrace him like this, but once again,  _ love  _ made Cas’s body act irrationally, and instead of letting Dean go he squeezed him harder. Then he was suddenly terrified that these continuous love-driven actions were going to cause Dean to run out of the room screaming any second now.

Instead, Dean did something completely and utterly unexpected. He lifted his leg over Cas and shifted his weight so that he was basically straddling Cas, which made him dizzy, but it was only for a second while Dean hoisted his other leg over and sprawled out so that now he was laying next to Cas on the bed, flush against Cas's left side. 

Not a word was spoken as Dean slid his right arm behind Cas's neck and carefully pulled him close, and Cas adjusted himself so that his head fit comfortably in the crook of Dean’s neck, but perhaps nothing  _ needed  _ to be said. They both understood, without words, that something had changed between them. Otherwise, the fact that they were cuddling in such an intimate way would have made them both feel awkward, but now it was just comforting, and it surprisingly felt very natural.

Cas sighed and sunk deeper into Dean’s warmth. He could feel the pulse under Dean’s ear beating against his forehead, and he found it quite soothing. As long as Cas had  _ this,  _ this feeling of safety and contentment and  _ Dean _ , he knew that he would be able to handle the unknown road ahead.

He fell into a peaceful sleep thinking about how, when he felt stronger, he planned to kiss Dean as passionately as he could until neither of them could breathe.


End file.
